


10 Days and 10 Years

by stevenstone



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevenstone/pseuds/stevenstone
Summary: “Y’all,” McCree mumbles through his sandwich. He pauses and takes a moment to swallow before giving Angela and Genji a serious look. “I need to get laid.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overwatch and McGenji have kind of consumed my life. Major thanks to [Red](https://twitter.com/sahdmadhi_) and [Darcy](https://twitter.com/merilindir) for beta'ing my work! Hope you guys enjoy!

Boredom is incredibly soporific, McCree thinks, as he slumps into his chair and dozes off. The rhythmic ticking of the clock and the soft chirping of the crickets outside aren't exactly the most ideal lullaby, but they're enough to soothe him into slumber for now. But  _just_ as he's walked into the realm of dreams, someone slams the door open and startles him awake.  

“Sorry, kid,” Reyes says gruffly, brows furrowed as he marches into the room. He dumps a stack of papers on the desk, toppling over a container of pens in the process. “Jack kept me longer than I thought he would.”

McCree resists the temptation to roll his eyes as he reluctantly straightens up and adjusts his hat. If anyone else had wasted the commander's time like that, Reyes would have made sure they regretted it. Jack Morrison, it seemed, was privy to special treatment. McCree had long suspected there was more to their relationship than they let on, but the Blackwatch commander had always heatedly denied it.

“What happened?”

Reyes doesn’t say anything at first, instead rummaging around a drawer for a few seconds until he pulls out a pack of cigars. He lights one and offers another to McCree, who gratefully accepts. “Some prissy banquet next month,” he finally answers dispassionately, taking off his beanie and setting it gently on a nearby table. “Wants me to accompany him.”

“Right… Hey, you sure you two ain’t, uh, you catch my drift?”

“Not this again,” Reyes scowls and waves his hand dismissively, taking a puff of his cigar. The cowboy drops his arms in defeat, knowing better than to push the man further.

“Anyway, change of plans. You won’t be taking on the Ilios mission after all.”

“Wha – why?” McCree huffs, pouting slightly. He’d been looking forward to having an excuse to get away to the Mediterranean for a bit. The ocean breeze and bright sun would have been a warm welcome to the kinds of assignments he'd been dispatched on so far.

“This party – the host funds most of our weapons department. But his son, well… We have reason to suspect he’s a Talon agent.” Reyes sighs and rubs the back of his shoulder. “I’m still gathering all the materials, but we’ll need you to tail him. Make sure he doesn’t try anything.”

McCree whistles softly. It may not be a Greek paradise, but it sure as hell sounds exciting. He’d been with Blackwatch for many years now, but, lately, the tasks he’d had to carry out were not much of a challenge. Taking down an easy target. Stealing artifacts from buildings where security was a joke. Silencing a traitor. All endeavors that seemed demanding in theory but were effortless in execution. It had been a long while since he'd last felt any thrill in his work. 

This operation, though, promises to be different. Keeping tabs on a moving target. Sneaking around a place where even the air itself is foreign to him. Escaping the notice of the presumably heavy guard force. McCree is nearly lost in fantasies of grandeur, sizing himself up as the next James Bond, when Reyes clears his throat and drags him back to reality.

“It’ll take some time before I’m ready to brief you. They fucked up registering your fake identity.”

McCree raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“They noted you down as plus one. We’re working on—”

“Now, hold on.” McCree throws up his hands in mock frustration, adding a choice frown to complete the look. “You think I can’t find me a date? You wound me, boss.”

Reyes chuckles and stares at him, bemused. “Suit yourself,” he shrugs. “I'll give you ten days. That leaves me time to fix things when – uh, _if_ you fail.”

“Just you wait,” McCree winks, smirking. “This one’s in the bag.”

Reyes shakes his head and softly flicks McCree on the cheek before sitting down. The older man barely manages to contain a yawn as he tosses a folder to the side of his desk. It's no secret that he slept the least of anyone in Overwatch. “Alright, then. I’ll keep you posted as we get more info. Go get some rest, kid.”

***

“Y’all,” McCree mumbles at Angela and Genji through his sandwich at lunch the next day. He pauses and takes a moment to swallow before giving them a serious look. “I need to get laid.”

He's not sure what reaction he expected, but Genji's eyes threatening to bulge out of his head and Angela violently choking on her water are decidedly not what he was going for. 

“E-excuse me,” the cyborg stammers after a few seconds, while Angela struggles to contain her coughing. “What?”

McCree explains his latest assignment, keeping his voice as low as possible and glancing around him periodically to make sure no one was listening in. After all, as far as the world is concerned, Blackwatch doesn't exist, and he isn't about to jeopardize that. Genji, of course, is an exception, being a part of the division himself, and he'd learned better than to keep things from Angela.  _"I won't interfere with your job, but you must allow me to be able to do mine. I can't help you if you hide from me,"_ she had demanded. 

Heaving a sigh, McCree looks at his friends forlornly. “I think I might’ve dug myself in a hole.”

“I do not understand,” Genji says, leaning over the table. “Can’t you just bring anyone? And why the need to… fondue?”

That earns a snort from everyone. Angela takes another sip of her water, cough at last subsided, before she replies. “Well, we need someone we can trust to be quiet so Jesse can slip away if he needs to. As for, _fondue_ -ing,” she grins, her eyes sparkling playfully. “That’s just Jesse being Jesse.”

“Hey, now. I don’t leave jobs half done.”

McCree returns his attention to his meal, and Angela follows, taking a mouthful of pasta. Genji rests his head on one hand, using the other to tap on the table as he waits for his friends to finish chewing. “Why not just give it up?”

“You kidding?!” McCree splutters. “I’d die of embarrassment after everything I said. Boss would never let that one go.”

The trio are quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Genji has a point, of course, but McCree’s pride is at stake. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one that he's taken of his own volition.  

“Okay,” Angela eventually breaks the silence. She puts a hand over McCree’s, her face determined. “Genji and I will help you.”

“Huh? We will?” the ninja asks, recoiling slightly when Angela glares at him.

“Yes!” she claps her hands together. “Between the three of us, we can surely find someone!”

“Come on, partner, you won’t leave me hangin’, will ya?” McCree musters up the most powerful puppy dog eyes he can. It’s always worked in the past, though he’s never sure if it is genuinely due to sympathy or instead to exasperation.  

“Fine, fine,” Genji yields, resigned. “Count me in.”

McCree smiles brightly. He has no idea what’s in store for him in the near future, but with his friends on board, perhaps things would turn out just fine.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo man i haven't written in months i'm so rusty haha. thanks for reading! feel free to catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/championurbosa) if you wanna talk mcgenji or overwatch or just chat!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major thanks to [Red](https://twitter.com/reyes_ebooks) and [Aly](https://twitter.com/widowtracers) for beta'ing, [Micho](https://twitter.com/strkecommander) for reviewing and supporting the main ideas and for reminding me to use y'all're bc I can, and [wolvelet](https://twitter.com/wolvelet) for supporting the fic!

An engineer who'd been building prosthetics since they were twelve. A soldier who'd once been cornered by seven bastion units during a raid and single-handedly took them all down. A nineteen year old general who’d joined Overwatch at the age of sixteen. These are only a few of the extraordinary individuals Angela and Genji have introduced McCree to. By the end of just the second day, McCree is nearly overwhelmed by his options. And yet, the numbers scare him more than anything, as he finds himself unable to really feel a connection with anyone. Six more days speed by, yielding no further results, and day ten now looms threateningly around the corner.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Angela says, gazing down at one of the many bean bags in McCree’s room. She and Genji have come over to discuss a last minute strategy, though none of them are particularly hopeful at this point. Genji slips off his visor and collapses onto his usual spot, a worn futon that has definitely seen better days. After much deliberation, Angela settles on a purple cushion and sinks into it, closing her eyes briefly and sighing in contentment. “What didn’t you like about the people you met?”

“Yeah,” Genji chimes in, snorting. “I thought things would go well with Torbjorn.”

“Shut up,” McCree grimaces, ignoring his friends’ laughter. “Y’all're mean. Most awkward conversation I ever been in.” Genji begins to laugh again, which McCree answers by launching a pillow at him. He rests against the headboard of his bed. “Anywho, it ain’t about liking or disliking.” McCree pauses to think for a while. “I guess... I ain’t gonna feel much for somebody I just met, you know?

Angela frowns slightly, looking at him curiously. “Shouldn’t you have mentioned that before we got into this mess?”

 _Well, shit_.

McCree scratches his head, heart pounding as he desperately searches for a way to avoid the impending conversation. Of course, he hadn’t been intentionally hidden anything, but he’ll be damned if this has to come out after all the antics he’s been pulling. He settles on feigning nonchalance as he grins and shrugs, “Guess I wasn’t really thinking.” His smile falters as Angela’s eyes widen slightly in realization.  

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

He sighs. “It never came up.”

“Hold on,” Genji interrupts, leaving the comfort of the futon to sit on the floor beside Angela. “What’s going on?”

McCree exchanges a quick glance with Angela, who gives him a reassuring smile. Heaving a gloomy sigh once more, he mumbles, “I, uh. I ain’t ever dated anybody before.”

At first, he isn’t sure if Genji has even heard him, as he remains still and unresponsive. McCree resorts to staring pointedly at the wall in front of him, his stomach twisting into knots as he waits anxiously for Genji to say something, _anything_. Then, almost imperceptibly but just loud enough to hear, Genji chuckles. Feeling his face burn redder by the second, McCree retreats behind his hands, suddenly wishing for the earth to split open beneath his bed and swallow him whole. Angela makes an effort to be sympathetic as she elbows Genji, but her expression gives away that she’s just as amused.

“Sorry, sorry!” the cyborg rubs at his arm, feigning pain as Angela rolls her eyes. “I just think it is cute.”

“I _ain’t_ cute,” McCree tries to grumble, but it nearly comes off as a squeak instead. He clears his throat as Angela and Genji laugh affectionately, hoping to redirect their attention to the topic at hand and save what remains of his shattered pride. His friends settle down at once, though Angela is still hiding a grin behind her hand, and McCree’s willing to bet good money that Genji is smirking beneath that mask as well. “ _Anyhow_. What d’y’all think I oughta do?”

***

11:45 PM. McCree sits morosely in the recreation lounge, feet kicked up on a couch and his eyes fixated on the clock. Fifteen minutes from now, day nine will have ended. Fifteen hours from now, he'd be checking in with Reyes and officially conceding defeat. He, Angela, and Genji had accepted in the end that nothing could be done now to change the situation. McCree tries to reassure himself that everything would blow over in less than a week, but he hates being humiliated as much as he hates losing. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, his chest feeling heavy.

“Good evening.”

McCree slowly opens his eyes. Captain Amari is standing before him, holding a cup of tea in her hands and wearing a smile just as warm.

“Ma’am!” He straightens up and scoots over, gesturing for her to sit down. She takes his offer and makes herself comfortable.

“Relax,” Ana says soothingly. “My favorite cowboy seemed troubled. I wanted to see what was wrong.”

McCree smiles gratefully. He's pretty damn comfortable with Reyes, but between the head of Blackwatch, Amari, and Morrison, McCree has always been the most at ease in the presence of Ana. The fact that the legendary sniper is a treasured mentor and one of his biggest role models certainly helps, but she's also the only one of the trio who has always appreciated and even contributed to his pranks and jokes. Despite that, McCree often finds himself being more formal than necessary around her.

“So,” Ana continues, lifting her cup to take a sip. “Still haven’t found a date, huh?” She chuckles at his panicked reaction. “Gabriel told me. How can I help?” When McCree fails to respond, she winks at him. “You worry too much. I promise I’m on your side.”

McCree nods. He's still hesitant to confide in one of his commander’s best friends, but after a few seconds of indecisiveness, he decides to bite the bullet and fills her in, figuring he's got nothing left to lose at this point. Ana takes a moment to think, looking contemplative as she finishes the last of her tea.

“You know,” she beams, placing her cup down on the coffee table. “You don’t _really_ have to find anyone. Gabriel just needs to think you did.”

“Huh?” McCree stares at her blankly.

“Think of it this way,” Ana explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Your mission requires you pretending you’re a guest at the party, correct?”

“Right…”

“Why stop there? If you can fake being a guest, you can--”

“Fake having a date!” McCree finishes enthusiastically, his face lighting up.

Ana's grin widens. “Attaboy.”

***

Being a cyborg, Genji doesn’t sleep in quite the same way as the average person. He certainly feels exhaustion and does need to rest for some time every day, but he doesn't get tired easily. As a result, Genji can often be found awake late at night. For McCree, that means he can visit Genji now, just past midnight, and still expect him to answer the door.

He’d considered waiting until morning, but his conversation with Ana had left him with so much anticipation that he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he’d resolved this. Excitement bounces around every cell of his body as he walks through the facility, his footsteps echoing loudly as he goes up the stairs. However, as he finally reaches Genji’s room, he’s abruptly overcome by anxiety and doubt. Will Genji even agree to play along? Is it fair to ask this of him? Will it make things awkward? He agonizes in silence for many minutes before finally raising a shaky fist to knock on the door.   

“Jesse?” Genji opens the door and invites him in. His eyes look concerned. “It is late… Did something happen?”

McCree feels a lump in his throat, the entirety of the English language suddenly removed from his brain as Genji continues to gaze at him expectantly. This scenario had played out much better in his mind.

“Are you okay?”

McCree exhales slowly, attempting to calm down and swallow his fear. Determined to see this through, he sets a hand on the ninja’s shoulder.

“Genji, be my date to the party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit guys I've had this chapter drafted since november but struggled with a particularly severe episode of depression plus some horrendous family drama that happened during the holiday season and. I'm so sorry I didn't mean to take this long... I hoped to have more done for you guys but I've already started working on the next chapter so I promise you guys don't have to wait as long for the next update.
> 
> also thank you so much to everyone who's commented and subscribed so far! I'm really just learning to write and develop as a writer so I appreciate that there is actually some interest in this fic! as always feel free to catch me on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/captainamari)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big shout out to [Red](https://twitter.com/championmipha) and [Nyx](https://twitter.com/championrevali) for betaing and giving me great suggestions to improve!

Having spent so much of his life with the Deadlock Gang and then Blackwatch, McCree has experienced enough danger that fear is an emotion he’s nearly forgotten about. He’s been cornered and threatened at gunpoint, while armed with nothing but an empty gun and a loaded attitude. He’s single-handedly taken on multiple opponents and emerged none the worse for wear. He’s even been discovered during critical stealth operations and lived to tell the tale. And yet, as Genji silently fixes him with a piercing gaze, McCree is certain that he has never known real fear until this very moment.

He’s almost ready to abort mission, debating between various methods of escape including simply backflipping out the door, when Genji at last speaks up.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, wait,” McCree answers desperately. “Just, hear me out, okay?” He shares the details of his conversation with Ana, something he realizes too late that he should have done first. He’ll blame that on it being the middle of the night and not on his poor planning.

Genji folds his arms and leans against the wall. “And you think the commander will buy this?”

“Well, yes?” McCree hesitates. Truthfully, he’s not sure. “W-we've known each other a while and... It’s worth a shot, ain’t it?”

“But why me in particular?” asks Genji, tone harsh. “Couldn’t anyone serve your purpose?”

“I, uh... I’d be more comfortable with you,” McCree rubs the back of his neck. Genji had honestly been the first one to come to mind, and in his excitement, he hadn’t really contemplated why. He pauses to think, but the answer isn’t hard to find. “I mean, you’re my best friend, and I trust you. Besides, we’re both Blackwatch. Most people don't know we exist. Can’t get better than that, if I do say so myself.”

“Did you not consider that I would... attract unnecessary attention?”

“If they ask, we’ll say you were injured. They don’t gotta know more than that. You’d pass.”

Genji narrows his eyes and looks at him coldly. “Does something like me truly ‘pass’ as anything?”

McCree tenses, kicking himself mentally for his careless choice of words. “I-I’m mighty sorry, Genji.”

The cyborg doesn’t respond, nor does McCree expect him to. He’s well aware of Genji’s ongoing struggle to reconcile with his cybernized body. The first few years of his life with Overwatch, Genji had refused to interact with anyone outside of debriefings, mandatory checkups, and medical procedures. For someone who was out of the loop on Blackwatch activity, it would have been impossible to know when Genji was at the headquarters and when he was instead away on a mission.

It wasn’t until Reyes began pairing Genji on missions with McCree that things slowly began to change. Reyes hadn’t offered an explanation for his actions, but McCree understood that it was to encourage Genji to learn to trust others. Though it took a long time, Genji did, in fact, eventually become much more comfortable around his colleagues and superiors. The Genji Shimada of today is not the same as the broken man brought in from death’s doorstep years ago, who joined Overwatch for a second chance at life.

Nevertheless, McCree knows that Genji still harbors resentment against Overwatch for conditionally saving his life and depriving him of truly having a choice. He continues to perceive himself as a monstrosity that he can never come to terms with. Yet, despite all that, Genji has finally allowed people into his life, and McCree cares too much about him to jeopardize their friendship over a silly bet.

“Hey,” he says gently, walking over to Genji and firmly placing a hand on his shoulder. Though he doesn’t respond, Genji’s mask tilts toward him slightly, letting McCree know that he’s got his attention. “You know ain’t nobody here that thinks of you as ‘some _thing_.’” He hesitates, then tries for humor. “Be answering to my peacekeeper if they did.”

Genji snorts, and McCree’s shoulders slump in relief as the tension dissipates. “I really am sorry,” he adds.

“Do not worry about it,” Genji replies, the edge gone from his voice. “I overreacted. I’m s--”

“No,” McCree interrupts. “No apologizing when you done nothing wrong.” He drops his arm from Genji’s shoulder to readjust his hat, then mirrors Genji’s stance and leans against the adjacent wall. Silence drapes around them, its hold surprisingly and pleasantly comfortable. McCree notices Genji’s posture relax, and his harsh gaze has softened, now fixated on the floor. Lost in thought, no doubt.

He finds his own focus drifting toward Genji’s eyes. Though the man rarely had his visor on these days, that hadn't always been the case. McCree still remembers the first time Genji had removed his visor in front of him. He'd been somewhat familiar with Genji’s face from old photos, but nothing could have prepared him for how striking Genji’s eyes were. Attractive, certainly, but what McCree had noticed first was just how much anger had been reflected in them. Over time, that rage had faded and been replaced by a twinge of despondence, a sadness McCree suspected grew more severe when Genji was by himself.  

As McCree looks at Genji’s face now, he finds himself wondering what might be going through his friend’s mind. Genji seems to be concentrating deeply on some train of thought, but his expression has also regained the melancholic hue that he often wears. McCree’s heart sinks at that. Even when Genji laughs, his eyes have always looked a little sad. He decides to leave Genji to his thoughts for a bit longer, unsure of what to say or if he should even interrupt, until he’s hit with a wave of fatigue. Stifling a yawn, McCree rubs his eyes and reluctantly moves toward the door.

“Anyhow,” he says, turning to face Genji. “I oughta head back. Gotta prepare for you-know-what tomorrow.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Huh?”

“Come on, Jesse,” Genji shakes his head, sighing. “I’m saying I’ll go with you to the party.”

“What?!” McCree exclaims. “Hold on, there, I can’t let you do that. This ain’t worth making you uneasy.”

“I’ll be fine,” insists Genji. “If they ask what I am” -- McCree gives him a stern look -- “sorry… _who_ I am, just be vague about it. Change the topic. You’ll figure it out.”

“You sure about this, partner? Don’t go forcing yourself into this for my sake.”

Genji shrugs. “I haven’t had any missions in a while. It’ll be a nice change of pace.”

He does have a point. Other than occasionally sparring with new recruits, Genji hasn’t had anything substantial to do in the last several months. Spending day after day at headquarters isn’t exactly the most exciting state of affairs. Still, McCree takes another five minutes to make sure Genji isn’t rushing into this decision, even urging him to reconsider, but the cyborg cannot be swayed.

“How about you buy me a Pachimari, and we’ll call it even?” Genji’s eyes twinkle, and, for a rare second, there’s no trace of his signature sadness.

“Okay,” McCree chuckles, savoring the moment. “But you’re free to back out any time, you hear?”

“Yes, yes,” Genji mutters. “You worry too much.”

“I just care, is all.”

“...Thank you.”

***

“Let me get this straight,” Reyes says, eyebrows furrowed. “You and Shimada? Really?”

“Yep,” McCree beams.

“Rather convenient, isn’t it?”

Of course it is. Reyes has every reason to be suspicious, but McCree isn’t deterred. “I mean, if you’d rather we make out here in your office as proof--”

“Ugh,” Reyes grimaces. “Forget it. Guess anything can happen if you’re desperate.” He smirks as McCree’s smile falters. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Kind of. Anyhow, works for me. I'd rather not deal with anyone outside Blackwatch.”

He reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a handful of folders, handing two of them to McCree. “Homework, for you and Genji. Everything you need to know about this mission is in there. I’ll reconvene with you two in a week to go over it further. Sound good?”

McCree nods. “Works for me, boss.”

***

Angela seeks Genji and McCree out at lunch, wearing a stern expression that strikes fear into their hearts.

“Hey, buddy,” McCree says, as the doctor marches toward them. “I don’t suppose you’ve shared the, uh, good news with Angie?”

“I thought you did.”

“Oh boy.”

Angela takes a seat in front of them, giving them an exasperated look. “When were you planning on telling me?”

“Sorry,” McCree apologizes. “It kind of happened fast.” He goes over the previous night’s events with her, Genji filling in any details he missed.

Angela sighs. “I wish you’d told me earlier. I almost blew your cover to Reyes.”

“How so?” asks Genji.

“I ran into him in the conference room, and he goes, ‘So, Jesse and Genji, huh?’ Which, _obviously_ , meant nothing to me. If Ana wasn’t there to make up an excuse to send me away, I probably would have said something stupid.” Angela rubs her forehead in frustration. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t think you’re fooling him anyway.”

“Then we will fake it till we make it,” Genji says calmly. “Besides, I’m sure Jesse could use my help. You really trust him to do all that on his own?”

McCree is about to protest when they’re interrupted by a booming voice.

“My friends!”

Lieutenant Reinhardt waves from across the room, and the volume of his voice startles a few nearby recruits, who almost drop their lunch trays. He makes his way over and occupies the seat by Angela.

“Ana told me! I cannot be happier for you two.”

“Ah, um. Thank you,” McCree mumbles, heat rising up his neck in embarrassment. _Thanks for that, Captain._ Angela gives him a look that’s split between sympathy and amusement.

Reinhardt grins. “I was just on my way over to Commander Morrison and thought I should congratulate you.”

McCree has a nagging suspicion that there’s much more to this encounter than Reinhardt lets on, especially considering how busy the man’s schedule is, but he chooses to ignore the feeling. Reinhardt chats amicably with the group for a few more minutes before he gets up, not wanting to be late to his meeting. Before he leaves, he drops a handful of small packets on the table and winks. “Haha! Just in case.”

Genji picks up one of the items out of curiosity before he flinches and tosses it, as though his hand had been burned. The offending object lands directly in front of McCree, and he registers, much to his chagrin, exactly what it is. _Fuck_. He furiously avoids eye contact with it as blood rushes past his neck and into his ears, his only solace being that he’s not suffering alone, as Genji’s shoulder vents pop open and hiss quietly in revolt. There’s no doubt in McCree’s mind that Reinhardt and Ana will soon be high-fiving each other somewhere in the distance.  

Angela bursts into laughter. “He’s got the right idea, you know,” she says teasingly.

McCree and Genji groan in unison.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shows up 5 months late with starbucks and finger guns] HEY.... yea im sorry there was a lot going on in the past few months and also the worst case of writer's block. but, im officially going to grad school in the fall!! excited and also terrified. anyway im so sorry this took so long, i'm gonna try to get one more chapter in before summer ends but the next few months are gonna be chaotic (moving out of my state for the first time in my life...) 
> 
> also how about that blackwatch genji... slightly modified the story to incorporate it since i hadn't gone too far in yet but i guess for future plot points the canon timeline won't exactly fit. 
> 
> anyway hope u guys enjoy! and as always feel free to hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/championurbosa)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major thanks to [rar](https://twitter.com/rarsneezes), [red](https://twitter.com/championmipha), [megan](https://twitter.com/meowjesty), [nyx](https://twitter.com/championrevali), and [elliott](https://twitter.com/monokurosora76) for betaing this!!

With only weeks left before the mission, McCree and Genji find themselves spending more and more of their time in the practice range. Officially, it’s because they want to be more prepared. In reality? McCree’s just been trying to get away from people. As if the incident with Reinhardt’s “gifts” hadn’t been bad enough, Blackwatch and Overwatch members alike, too nosy and curious for their own good, have constantly been bombarding McCree and Genji ever since word of their “relationship” broke out. Most of the questions are innocent, usually centered around how or why they started dating, but there were still those who didn’t have the courtesy to keep quiet about things that shouldn’t have been voiced out loud.

Genji, McCree has discovered, is phenomenal at improvising, so he’d decided to leave the talking to him until, naturally, Genji took full advantage of it. A few days ago, McCree had zoned out of a conversation with a new recruit only to tune back in and realize Genji was happily describing in detail tattoos McCree definitely did _not_ have in places he’d certainly _never_ shown to anyone. He’d furiously yanked Genji by the hand and dragged him away, growing increasingly frustrated as Genji only laughed in response. No wonder, then, that the training rooms had become a kind of sanctuary to McCree, keeping him safe from any further awkward encounters.

Today, however, luck is apparently not on his side, and McCree bumps into none other than the aforementioned recruit on his way out of the living quarters.

“Hey!” The recruit offers their hand, which McCree hesitatingly shakes. “Name’s Ari! Didn’t get a chance to talk to you the other day.”

McCree nods and readjusts his hat. “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to be rude, but I’m a little busy, maybe--”

“Oh,” Ari looks crestfallen.

McCree gulps, feeling guilty. “I mean.. You can, uh, walk with me for a bit, if you like?”

Ari’s eyes light up, and they follow McCree toward the elevators. Fortunately, the two maintain a fairly normal conversation as they walk through the base, though Ari does glance at McCree frequently -- “Bless their heart,” he thinks to himself. “They think I haven’t noticed.” -- as if meaning to ask something. When they arrive at the elevators, McCree decides to bite the bullet as he presses the call button. “Something on your mind?”

“Well,” Ari hesitates. A bell dings as the elevator doors swing open. “I-is it true that…” -- their eyes briefly flicker down McCree’s body before they clear their throat and force a hesitant smile -- “...um, actually, never mind!”

McCree sighs as he steps inside, turning back around to face Ari, who seems to have regretted speaking up. “Kid,” he says softly, “do yourself a favor and don’t believe a single word that bastard tells you.”

Ari laughs as the doors shut.

***

McCree settles into an empty conference room, shooting off a quick message to Genji to let him know where he is. The two had agreed earlier to go over and plan their infiltration, but they had yet to determine the best way to go about it. Pulling out the case files for the mission, McCree thumbs through the paper, brows furrowed in concentration.

Of course, getting inside the building wouldn’t be a problem. After all, they’re both already on the guest list. McCree would be attending as a representative for Overwatch’s weapons department, Genji as a newly recruited omnic soldier. Leaving undetected, though, would be extremely difficult. Blackwatch intel suggested that the host’s son only planned to be around for the first hour. After that, he could be anywhere, and McCree and Genji needed to make sure they didn’t lose sight of him throughout the night. On top of that, they couldn’t afford to attract any attention from the other guests. McCree heaves a sigh, resting his chin on his hands as he tries to figure out a strategy.

“Someone looks troubled,” Genji steps inside, shutting the door behind him. He tosses a few folders on the table and sits down beside McCree, who greets him with a scowl.

“What in tarnation are you telling people about me?”

The cyborg shrugs. “I just told them that you have a big d--”

“ _Anyway_ ,” growls McCree, ignoring the rush of blood to his ears. Genji chuckles, in that frustrating and yet endearing way of his. Damn it all, McCree had never been able to stay mad at Genji for long. He shakes his head and looks back at the papers scattered in front of him. “Anyway,” he repeats. “Was just wonderin’ how we’ll track this fella the whole night.”

Genji flips open one of the folders and pulls out a pamphlet, scanning it quickly for a few seconds.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” asks McCree.

“The schedule.” Genji slides the paper toward him, pointing at a specific line. “Why don’t we make use of this?”

“ _Opening Waltz_ …,” McCree raises an eyebrow. “How will this help?”

“You’ve never been to a ball, have you?”

“Do I _look_ like--”

“Okay, okay,” Genji raises his hands and laughs. “Well, people dance in pairs, but they often rotate partners. One of us can make our way toward the target and ask to dance with him. Then, we just slip a tracking device--”

“Hoo, boy, that’s on you, partner,” McCree interrupts. “Good plan, but, uh, couldn’t dance even if my life depended on it.” Shooting a target from a distance with deadly accuracy? Easy. Piece of cake. Could do it in his sleep. Dancing? He was better off dead.

“You can learn,” continues Genji, undeterred. “There’s still time.”

“Mighty hopeful of you, but I swear I got two left feet. Rather not let anyone see that side of me.”

“Even me?”

“Well, I-- where are you going?”

Genji silently gets up and types something on a nearby computer. A slow musical piece starts to play from it as he turns around.

Was _this_ what rich folks listened to? McCree grumbles. “The hell is that noise?”

“On your feet,” Genji extends a hand forward.

“I told you, I can’t dance--”

“You’ll be fine. No one’s here, anyway. Come on.”

McCree sighs and takes his hand, flushing as the cyborg pulls him closer. Genji moves one of McCree’s hands to his waist and intertwines the other with one of his own. Not that he was ever without it, but McCree is immensely thankful for his trademark hat as his face grows frustratingly warmer.

“I--”

“Shh,” Genji glares at him. “Just follow me.” He places his other hand on McCree’s shoulder and guides him along with the music, taking one step right, then another to the left. Backwards, then forwards -- at which point McCree trips into Genji’s chest.

“See,” McCree begins. “I just--”

“Again.”

Genji places their arms back in position and, once more, the two move with the music, the cyborg catching him every time he stumbles. Soon enough, McCree begins to relax, even matching Genji’s movements more accurately. As he musters the courage to look away from the floor and finally meet Genji’s gaze, he can’t help but smile. There’s a lightness to Genji’s eyes that matches the way he moves, a mirth the likes of which McCree is certain he’s never seen before. He’s confident and assertive in every step yet gentle and graceful as he effortlessly leads McCree through every motion. McCree doesn’t even have to think and allows Genji to move for the both of them, his own body seemingly following of its own accord.

For just a moment, the world freezes around them. The concerns of McCree’s life leave his mind as he focuses entirely on Genji. He’s not sure he even hears the music anymore, but it doesn’t matter. How many years had the two of them known each other now? And yet, it felt as though he’d never really looked at Genji before. The rest of the song passes in a blur, like a daydream, and McCree ends up mere inches from Genji’s face, close enough that his breath begins to fog up the mask. Neither dares to move, taking a moment to catch their breaths.

McCree’s attention drifts to Genji’s one visible arm, abruptly aware of just how well-developed it is, of the beads of sweat that have formed on it, and of the fact that it is tightly wrapped around his waist. Genji’s breathing is as ragged as his own, and McCree’s head is pounding from adrenaline and perhaps something else entirely.

“L-like I said,” he finally stammers breathlessly. “I can’t dance.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello... it's me... i was wondering if after all these [months] you'd like [an update]... 
> 
> you're probably like... i waited a year for this crap? IM SORRY i just uh. family drama that got real bad, i started grad school and life got busy, i also kinda drifted out of ovw somewhat for a bit but. ANYWAY. HOW ABOUT THAT RETRIBUTION EVENT IM SO HAPPY


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